David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

He shouted some command into the darkness, gazing down toward the light. His face was a pale mask of anger. Orick and Tallea scampered into the shadows to watch.

Lord Felph squatted down near the water, a glow globe in one hand, a canteen in the other. Zeus waved his gun at his father. “I said, put it down. Now!”

Felph looked up, startled, and smiled nervously. “Zeus, so glad to see you made it,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Is the Lord Protector with you?”

He peered about, trying to find Gallen. “Throw me the canteen,” Zeus demanded.

“There is plenty for both of us,” Felph chided, waving expansively to the Waters before him. “Plenty for this whole world.”

“Throw me the canteen!” Zeus shouted, firing a quick burst that whipped past Felph’s brow and exploded into the roots, behind him, down at water level.

Orick breathed deeply, found his heart pounding. So that scoundrel Zeus was trying to steal the Waters.

Lord Felph tossed the canteen up. Zeus grabbed it, while his gun pointed steadily at Felph. Zeus shook the canteen.

Felph said, “See, I was bringing some back for you. Plenty for us all.”

Zeus smiled wickedly, waved his weapon at Felph. “Drop your gun, now, into the water. Slowly.”

Felph did as commanded. When he finished, Zeus nodded toward the shadows. “Tell the slave to drop his weapon.”

Lord Felph glanced back into the shadows. “Do as he says.”

In the shadows, Orick could discern only the smallest of movement. Thomas Flynn stood there, frozen, unable to move. Orick could see the gleam of silver on his graying hair-a Guide.

“Throw down your weapon, slave, or you might both die,” Zeus repeated.

Thomas tossed his gun. It clattered over the roots, dropped into a crevice.

Zeus said, “Thank you,” nodded at Thomas. Then addressed Felph. “Really now, Father, you don’t think I’d let you drink from this, too? You don’t think I’d let any of you have this.”

“Why not?” Felph asked.

“Because I don’t have to,” Zeus said. “You’re here in the tangle, so far from home, your Controller can’t transmit a signal back home. If I killed you now, you’d awaken in a few days, knowing you’d gone into the tangle and never returned. You’d never discover what had happened down here.”

“Come now, after six hundred years of searching, you wouldn’t deny me this?” Felph said. “There is plenty for both of us.”

Zeus chuckled, laughing easily. “You made me to be the ruler,” Zeus said. “You made me to hold the power. I … I don’t need any equals.”

“It is true, I made you to crave power,” Felph said.

“Perhaps I was mistaken in that.”

“So, my life is a mistake?” Zeus asked. “That’s what Arachne told me.”

“When?” Felph asked, his face suddenly clouding with doubt.

In answer, Zeus fired his gun. The blast caught Felph in the belly, and the charge from the pulp gun exploded, carving a ragged hole in his gut. Felph sat down backward, then let the glow globe in his left fist roll from his hand.

It bounced once on the root, dropped into the water, and dimmed as it began to slowly, oh so slowly, sink from sight.

Lord Felph fell backward, lifeless.

“Just before I killed her,” Zeus answered. He gazed over at Thomas, a frown on his face.

“You want to kill me, don’t you?” Zeus asked. Thomas did not answer.

Zeus glanced down at his father, waved his gun. “He’s not dead, you know. In a few hours, he’ll be strutting around the palace. I haven’t really hurt him, have I?”

Thomas said nothing.

Zeus chuckled. Apparently killing his father’s clone was not a major crime. He waved his pulp gun at Thomas, and Orick knew that the young man pondered whether he should murder Thomas.

“You could kill me,” Zeus said. “I see it in your eyes, You want to, but you’re a slave. I know what it is to wear a Guide. I know what it’s like to want to kill someone, and not be able.”

Zeus stared at Thomas. “I give you a present: you shall be my audience.”

Zeus uncorked the canteen, brought it to his lips, and sipped. Orick found himself holding his breath, watching Zeus, watching to see what the water bought with so many lives would do.

Zeus blinked a moment, as if in surprise, then he pulled back the hood of his cloak and stood, looking into the sky above as if staring at something far away. “Ahhhhh!” he sighed in wonder.

Zeus raised his hands upward, placatingly, almost as if trying to pull himself into the sky.

Orick could not see well in the gloom. Zeus stood, arms wide, as if in greeting, and Orick saw something strange: a purple light in Zeus’s eyes, as if reflected while he focused on something high above.

“I see, now!” Zeus breathed in wonder, in rising excitement. He shouted, “We are gods! It is finished. I can lay down my life, and take it up again. I see how!”

Zeus began shaking with excitement, and to Orick, his face seemed unnaturally pale and bright. His dark hair was combed straight back. Orick could see all of Zeus’s face, the strong lines of his mouth drawn back, the skin so pale he looked bloodless.

Orick realized Zeus’s face wasn’t just pale, it glowed with a dim violet light. The green stars dancing in his eyes burned like flames, and Zeus trembled, gazing upward.

“I go now to my fathers.” Zeus closed his eyes, exhaling in a ragged shudder. Orick thought Zeus would die, thought by the way he totally relaxed, the man would simply collapse.

His knees wobbled drunkenly, but he remained standing, and the glow globe below him had almost extinguished. The glow globe, drifting down in the water, had become so dim it looked like a pearl sinking into the sea.

Zeus leaned back his head and opened his mouth, as if to emit a silent scream, and Orick could hardly credit his eyes: for a shadowy form began to break free, struggling from Zeus’s mouth, oozing out like a jellyfish-a shape of shining darkness, a horrible black form shot through with purple lightning, a creature that wriggled on dark wings.

Orick’s heart pounded, for he thought some strange beast was ripping free from Zeus’s body. But as the hideous form surged out, Orick realized he was witnessing a birth, a child struggling from its womb.

The black form put two hands on Zeus’s head-one on his forehead, one on his chin, and twisted as it brought its hips through the narrow cavity of Zeus’s throat, tussling, then suddenly it broke free. For a moment, it sat experimentally on Zeus’s upturned face and spread its dark wings, watching them flap.

Zeus’s body dropped with a sigh, a skin sloughed off, and the dark creature took to the air, wheeled overhead in a tight circle.

The creature leaned its head back, opened its mouth wide, and in Orick’s mind, he imagined that he heard a great cry of triumph. But the beast made no sound. It remained utterly silent.

Yet its body language spoke volumes. It wheeled and whipped through the air in dizzying circles. It flapped joyously and soared upward with abandon, then dived as quickly.

Orick imagined that Zeus would leave, that he would take flight and never return, but suddenly, a green spark erupted in the sky overhead-a spark or a sheet of flame.

In seconds, another blazed, then a third.

Orick gazed up, and saw an emerald form-pale emerald light in the shape of a great bird. For one second, it dived through solid stone, and then it soared upward again.

Half a moment later, six or seven birds of light dived back into view, stooped toward Zeus’s black wriggling form, threatening.

The creature that was Zeus darted and weaved, studying the birds above, dived toward a great root and sat, cowering.